(A performance piece)
By the old canal.
In her mouth
A blue bird’s tail.
A feather, stuffed, between each toe.
Beside her ear, a beak.
Her halo was her yellow hair,
Her shroud?
Just sludge...
Just grass.
Her gown was made of damaged things,
Like rusty cans and broken,
Glass.
What Devilry is this?
They cried on fallen knees
Placed, tender hands
Beneath her head,
And cursed the wretch
Who’d do such things.
Her palms were crossed
On bloodied chest,
Where note, lay, crumpled,
Underneath.
They paused...
Then bade note reveal to them,
The secrets of which
Only note,
Could speak.
‘My name is Lily White,
It told,
‘He stole my eyes
He slit my throat.
No tongue have I,
No teeth,
No breasts.
Yet still my heart
FOUGHT his request.
‘I struck him hard!
I beat him down,
Tore off his wings...
Yet still, he sang.
Yet still,
He sang.
Then note was caught upon the breeze
And carried far into the sky,
Whispering to all of those who wished to hear,
That Lily White upon the banks
Did lie.
Lily White, upon the banks did lie.
They called for cart!
And piled her in,
Beak?
They left, upon the shore.
And Lily might have smiled again
To know that beak
Could sing his song to her,
No more.
Yet if it might, some tale it’d tell,
Of one so young and bright and fair
Who one time danced!
The bluebird’s song,
With coloured ribbons, in her hair.
‘Her name was Lily White,
It’d say,
‘I stole her eyes so she might see!
Her throat I slit so she might speak!
Her teeth I took to make her eat.
'Her tongue I tore... But mended well
So her sweet voice might never fade.
Her breasts I kept for babe. Or man...
Her heart I found I could not save.
Her heart, I found,
I could not save.
'I tried so hard,
I sang my song,
Put feathers, on her feet,
And begged and begged they'd dance again
And prayed and prayed she might want me.
'I tore my beak, so she might hear,
I sang and sang to break the curse
Of he,
Who so undeservingly,
Had snuck in and stolen her heart first.
But Lily White was dead to me,
Lily White was gone,
And though I crept between
Her soft, soft lips,
I knew,
I sang,
My song,
Alone.
Lily White was beautiful!
My moon, my stars... my love.
But Lily gave her heart to death,
And now, my love,
Is lost...
My blog is a poetic record of both my life with, and my efforts to crush,
seronegative arthritis.
(https://steemit.com/@girlwithoutwings)
seronegative arthritis.
(https://steemit.com/@girlwithoutwings)
its beautiful !
Thank you. I'm going to get someone to record me actually doing it as I do when I'm performing.